Happy New Year, Mrs Jenkins
by Jenksel
Summary: New Year's Eve plans are disrupted by Librarianing, fluff ensues.


The back door of the Annex glowed pale blue-white, and the double-doors swung open gracefully to allow four very dirty, tired, hungry Librarians and a Guardian to fall through into the workroom. Their latest mission to Iowa had been completed successfully, but every single member of the team was covered head to toe with mud, cobwebs—and generous smears of _very_ odiferous pig dung.

They were also a somewhat disgruntled lot. This particular mission had cropped up in the Clippings Book late the previous afternoon—New Year's Eve day—alerting them to a powerful ceremonial mask created hundreds of years ago by the native prehistoric people that had lived in central Iowa then. The mask had the power to allow its wearer to shapeshift into the form of any animal native to the area—but _not_ to transform back into human form. No one wanted to miss their planned New Year's Eve activities, but it was an emergency situation that couldn't wait, and that was simply part of being a Librarian. Sometimes, sacrifices just had to be made.

After a lightning-quick debriefing, Jake and Ezekiel dialed up a door for their apartment building and left. Flynn laid a piece of scrap paper on the worktable before gingerly placing the similarly befouled artifact they had just recovered on it for cataloging later. Flynn and Eve then dialed up a door for their apartment and left, bidding Cassandra good-night before stepping through the magic portal.

With a deep sigh, the exhausted redhead trudged down the long corridor toward the bedroom she shared with Jenkins. It was almost two o'clock in the morning now, New Year's Day. Cassandra frowned as she clomped desultorily down the hallway. She and Jenkins had planned to spend their first New Year's Eve as husband and wife at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York City, something that Cassandra had secretly dreamed of doing ever since she was a child— dining and dancing and ringing in the New Year in a large, luxurious private suite, wearing a fabulous gown and with the most handsome man in the world on her arm. When Jenkins had surprised her with the arrangements, Cassandra had screamed with joy for five solid minutes.

But then the Clippings Book had gone off, dashing her dreams of being a New Year's Eve princess. She'd been careful not to let her bitter disappointment show while Jenkins was giving them a quick pre-mission briefing, but she had actually shed a few tears once the team was in Iowa. The real kicker was that they hadn't really needed Cassandra at all for this mission. Fortunately, Eve was there to commiserate with her and cheer her up.

Cassandra was certain that Jenkins had already gone to bed; the team hadn't expected to wrap things up so quickly. She was half-tempted to sleep in the lab tonight. She didn't want to disturb her husband, and she was absolutely filthy, not to mention completely depressed. She really needed to bathe before going to bed, but she just didn't have the energy for that right now. She decided to at least stop into her dressing room for a quick washing up and to pick up something clean to sleep in.

Approaching the door to her and Jenkins's suite, Cassandra was surprised to see a sliver of dim light coming from beneath the heavy oak door. She slowly opened it and went inside, quietly, in case the Caretaker had merely fallen asleep with a lamp on.

But Jenkins was awake, sitting in his favorite armchair and absorbed in an old book, a mug of tea on the coffee table. Cassandra caught the scent of lavender in the air.

"Jenkins?" The immortal glanced up from his book, a huge smile blossoming across his face as he spied her in the doorway. He immediately got up from the chair, laying his book on the cushion. Quickly crossing the room, he opened his arms to give her a hug, but the moment his nose caught the appalling smell that clung her, he froze and quickly covered his nose and mouth with his hand.

"Cassandra! Good God, woman—what is that _smell_?" he blurted in disgust. The Librarian sighed and shrugged her shoulders dejectedly.

"Sorry, it's pig poop. I fell right into a huge pile of it right as we were leaving the McGuire's hog farm," she said apologetically. "Don't worry, though, I'm going to go sleep in the lab tonight…"

"Absolutely not!" Jenkins cut in, waving his hand in dismissal. "I've missed you terribly, my dear, and I've been looking forward to having you home again and in the bed right next to me ever since you left yesterday, and I will _not_ be denied!"

He reached down and grabbed her crud-encrusted hand to lead her to the bathroom, the Librarian protesting all the way. Her resistance disappeared once she was through the door, however, as she took in the room softly lit with dozens of candles, some scented with lavender. The large, old-fashioned claw-footed bathtub was full of hot, steaming water. Cassandra stood and looked around in awe.

"Jenkins! What is this? Have you had all of this waiting for me? How did you know I was even coming home tonight? We weren't due back until tomorrow!" The older man chuckled softly.

"I just had a feeling that you would be back this evening," he answered cryptically. His wife looked askance.

"You've been calling _Eve_ the whole time we've been away, haven't you?" she accused. Jenkins plastered an exaggerated look of innocence on his face.

" _Moi_?" he said, laying his hand on his heart, his expression going from innocence to comically offended. Cassandra giggled at the act.

"So I've drawn you a nice hot bath," he said, refusing to neither confirm nor deny her accusation. "Now, if you'll please take off those repulsive clothes, I'll lay them aside for burning later, and then I'll help you into the tub."

Too tired and surprised to protest or ask further questions, Cassandra gladly stripped off her dirt and dung-caked clothes and tossed them into a pile as far away from the tub as possible. Jenkins held her hand as she stepped into the bath. She leaned back in the tub, the hot water feeling like a liquid blessing as it covered her aching muscles. She closed her eyes, could hear Jenkins scurrying to stuff the dirty clothes into a bag and then remove them from the bathroom. The Librarian sighed deeply with contentment, relishing the moment before she had to try and find the energy to actually wash herself.

Suddenly, she felt hot water streaming over her head, neck and back. Popping open her eyes, Cassandra looked up to see her husband, his coat off, tie removed and shirtsleeves rolled up, perched on the edge of the bathtub, a large dripping sponge in his hands.

"Jenkins, what…?" she started to ask, but he interrupted her.

"Just relax, my dear," he said in a low, soothing tone. "Let your Caretaker do his job." He then soaked the sponge with water and held it directly over her head.

"Close your eyes!" he ordered, then squeezed the hot water over her filthy hair. He repeated the process several times until her hair was completely soaked. When he was satisfied, he reached down to pick up a bottle of shampoo and squeezed a large dollop of it into his hand. To Cassandra's surprise, he then began to lather her hair, gently massaging her scalp with long, strong fingers and sending little thrills through her body. She couldn't remember the last time someone had washed her hair for her, and it felt _fantastic_.

"Mmmmmmm, Jenkins, that feels so nice!" she sighed happily. The immortal chuckled softly above her as he continued to work the citrusy suds through her fine-textured red hair. When he was finished, he poured fresh, warm water over her head from a large bucket he had hidden next to the tub to rinse the lather out, then he was ready to go to work on the rest of his wife's body. The Caretaker produced a large, soft washcloth and lathered it with soap that also smelled of lavender.

"Stand up, please," he instructed crisply, but Cassandra balked.

"Jenkins, really—you don't have to do this..." she began, but he interrupted her protests.

"I know I don't _have_ to; I _want_ to," he said. "Now, hush, please, and stand up!" He helped her to stand up in the tub, then started to bathe her, scrubbing every inch of her skin vigorously until she was a rosy pink color all over. By the time he was finished with the scrubbing and then the rinsing, his clothes were mostly soaked and clinging to his body. He ignored the discomfort, though, and when Cassandra was ready to come out of the tub, he hurried to bring her a huge, thick towel that felt soft as a cloud on her weary body. He carefully dried her hair first and then the rest of her, the Librarian giving in and simply standing there, enjoying the whole experience immensely. By the end she was tingling and sweet-smelling, the sweaty, dirty, gritty rural Iowa landscape now seeming like an unpleasant, half-remembered dream.

Jenkins wrapped a fresh towel and his arms around her from behind and lowered his head to lightly nuzzle her neck and shoulders, and Cassandra giggled softly at the tickling sensation. The immortal then swept her up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, the half-naked Librarian laughing and play-struggling the whole way. He dropped her gently onto the bed, then sat down and placed both of her feet in his lap. He took one in his hands and began to massage it, his long, strong kneading her tired foot and ankle, gradually working his way up to her calf muscles. Cassandra went limp with pleasure.

"Oh, my God, Jenkins, that feels _so_ good!" she moaned.

"I'm glad to hear it!" he chortled. "Goodness knows that you've given _me_ plenty of massages, I'm happy to return the favor." He raised her foot and kissed her pink-painted toes before beginning to work on her other foot and leg.

"I'm sorry about our plans for the evening," he murmured. He felt her leg stiffen ever so slightly and then relax again.

"That's okay," she said, a little too quickly, giving her shoulders a careless shrug. "It wasn't your fault. Sometimes being a Librarian sucks. You just have to deal with it, that's all." Jenkins smiled to himself; how brave she was trying to be for him!

"Yes, but I know how much you were looking forward to it, I know it broke your heart to have to miss it." Cassandra remained silent, but a quick glance told him that she was struggling to hold back tears of renewed disappointment. He gave the toes of her other foot a kiss, then got onto his hands and knees on the bed, and, straddling her body, he crawled slowly over it, stopping periodically to kiss her thighs, her belly, her breasts, her throat, finally ending with her lips.

"If it makes you feel any better, my love, I've gone ahead and made reservations for next New Year's Eve," he said, looking down into her shining eyes. "In fact, I thought it might be nice to spend the _whole_ week between Christmas and New Year's in New York. We can see the Christmas lights, take in a show or a play, perhaps. Let you do some shopping—I'll even carry your bags for you and not utter a single word of complaint!" His young wife's eyes lit up.

"Oh, sweetheart, that would be wonderful!" she exclaimed, and reached up to encircle her arms loosely around his neck. She looked up at him adoringly. "You're so good to me!" Jenkins dropped his head to give her a quick peck.

"And you're so good _for_ me," he said, his voice becoming low and rumbling. He lowered himself to kiss her. "Happy New Year, my love!"

"Happy New Year!" she whispered back.

"Now," he continued, lightly stroking her bare hip and thigh. "Is there anything… _else_ …I can do for you this evening to help make up for our spoiled New Year's celebration?" Jenkins waggled his eyebrows rakishly, and Cassandra laughed. As tired as she was right now, she suddenly didn't want tonight to end yet. She might not have gotten to wear her fabulous gown, or gotten a sinfully rich dinner or danced till dawn, but she still had the most handsome man in the world. She smiled up at her waiting husband.

"How about some champagne to toast the New Year, first?" she said, her voice soft and enticing and playful. "And then let's see what happens next?" Jenkins returned her smile with a knowing one of his own.

"Oh, I think we _already_ know what will happen next!" he purred, lowering his head to softly and slowly kiss her, leaving his wife breathless before he went off to fetch the chilled bottle of champagne—along with the tray of caviar with toast points and the chocolate-dipped strawberries—he already had waiting for them in the kitchen.


End file.
